The Land of Legends
by Myaru
Summary: FE7, pre-game. Pent finds his new wife too lovely for the mundane world and decides she deserves an equally wonderful setting in which to shine.


**The Land of Legends  
By:** Amber Michelle

...

_Written for Suzume. _

...

* * *

"A story- now, Lord Pent?"

"Why not?" He relaxed against two feather pillows set up against the headboard. Their silk cases creased audibly. His new wife sat on the edge of the canopied bed with one shapely thigh drawn onto the mattress so she could face him, though Louise appeared determined to keep her gaze averted. Custom had demanded Pent allow her time after the wedding party to prepare herself, and he recognized her mother's touch in the metaphorical weight of gold in the red jewels dangling from her ears, and the teardrop diamond that dangled between her breasts and tried to catch his eye. Her lacy white gown must have required a dozen needles and as many years to produce. The shadows cast by their single lamp sheathed her curves. "All decent tales are told at bedtime." He curled his fingers into the quilted coverlet so they wouldn't touch her without his permission. "My nurse lied to me so many times about dragons and evil druids I spent years trying to unravel her stories from reality."

Louise started to laugh, then cleared her throat and covered her mouth with her hand. His ring gleamed on the third finger. "Oh? When did you stop believing in them?"

He turned his eyes up to the white canopy. Spared his gaze, she might let her shoulders relax finally, might even look at him. Stupid traditions - she'd never shown fear to him before. She was a better horseman than he, she beat him soundly at target practice, she had the unfair advantage of a smile that made him lose his train of thought whenever she thought he was being an idiot- if propriety had allowed him a little more freedom she would already be used to his touch and challenging him for control of the whole affair. "Rather, she led me to believe they were only tales, and now I know a different story."

She was looking down at her hands when he snuck a glance at her; they'd folded on her knee, and curls of golden blond twisted over her shoulder, peeked around her arm, swirled onto the coverlet behind her, loose for the first time in his presence. "You've mentioned that before." Louise tilted her head, looked at him sideways. "That you found something you hadn't believed was real - then you ran off and deserted us for most of the Yule season."

Pent laughed and reached for her hand. "The desert is a brutal place in the summertime, my lady."

Her fingers jerked, but she didn't pull away. "Why on earth would you make a journey like that?"

"Come," he said, pulling, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Red crept from her throat to her face, blushing her breasts, and he smiled. "Lie down. It's a long story."

It seemed all she needed was the order; Louise was well-bred, knew her duty, but Pent was glad she hesitated. He watched her hair spin and swirl over the blankets when she twisted around to bring her legs onto the mattress, the scent of violets and honey powder curling like those strands and drawing his hand to stroke the length. She let him pull it out of her way, put his arm around her waist, and hesitated only a second before settling beside him with her head perched on his shoulder.

He might have ended up with her cousin instead, had circumstances been slightly different. Helene wouldn't have been as soft or sweet - or as shy. Marisa, Stella, Maria, Amelia - they would already be making love to his title. That-

Pent watched his fingers trace a seam over her hip. That approach had its merits.

"Lord Pent?"

"The desert," he said, ripping his eyes away. His fingers didn't want to listen. They traced shapes on her nightgown, and he didn't try to stop them. "It must be two years ago now that I found the first fragment..."

* * *

Three days passed before they had any time to themselves despite the demands of tradition, which their families were perfectly willing to ignore as long as Pent was the only man inconvenienced. Louise smiled over her morning cup of tea when he muttered about the last of them _finally leaving us alone_, her long legs crossed and peeking through the gap in her dressing robe. It wasn't fair; this was the first time she'd allowed him the luxury of waking to find her there, still nestled beneath the sheet and decorated by streaks of hair gilded by the early sunlight, bare and warm and tempting.

Why had he gotten married, again? His books were waiting. His master's discourse on the structure of incantation magic was marked on the second chapter, and there was an essay to read, a book to write.

"I noticed most of your friends left early," Louise said. The rich scent of her tea colored the air, a mix of black and green with rose petals. Her slender fingers hid the mulberry decoration on her cup. She held it at her chin, breathed in, her gaze on the window and the grassy hills beyond the hedge barrier. "The Knight General seemed especially rushed. I thought he simply didn't like parties at first, but..."

"Douglas? He can't stand them." Pent looked down at the cup on his saucer. A silver spoon waited on the painted edge of the plate. "He had a message to carry. I doubt the king would let him out of the capitol otherwise."

To her credit, Louise didn't ask, though he'd told her long ago she didn't have to suppress her curiosity in matters of importance - that as his wife, knowing matters pertaining to his employment or household was her right. Instead, she leaned forward, put her cup down with a quiet clink, and asked if she should order breakfast in. She frowned a little when Pent told her he almost never took breakfast, and he decided to leave the explanation of his personal habits to the housekeeper, whom she would have to get to know anyway.

He stayed to watch her dress and brush her hair. Books and essays would wait an hour or two without complaint, but his wife was an anomaly among the nobility - a woman who rose before ten o'clock and insisted on being dressed within the hour, which meant he did not have much time to indulge himself.

She was sitting at the small dressing table braiding her hair when he decided to tell her. "It seems I've been promoted."

Louise lifted her pale eyebrows in the mirror, looking lovely in its oval frame. "How fortunate." She pulled the plait over her shoulder to tie a pink ribbon at the end, her lips turning just slightly. "So I married a general." Her expression tightened. "Mother will be ecstatic."

"We'll let her enjoy it awhile before we allow her into the house again," Pent said, leaning back and folding his hands over his middle. "This will require me to make frequent and lengthy trips to the capitol, not counting military maneuvers. I can take you along, or you may stay here, as you prefer."

Whatever she thought about that, it wasn't reflected in her expression. Daylight glinted on the weave of her braid when she threw it back over her shoulder. How long would it take, he wondered, before she grew dissatisfied with her? Lord Douglas had a wife he never saw; rumor had it they did not get along, and the gossips were likely correct in their speculation on the conspicuous lack of children. Pent's younger brother was ruled by his wife. His sister had married recently, and confessed in a letter she was glad to see her husband leave to attend court, as it allowed her the freedom to run the household as she saw fit.

With luck, Louise would be the same. While visiting for their wedding, Pent's sister had assured him he was a difficult man to live with. His wife would be throwing him out of the house in short order.

They parted at the bottom of the front staircase, Louise to gather the household staff, and he to rejoin the company of his books. Weeks had passed since his last night in the study. Though he'd grown to love the delicacy of her perfume, opening the door to the dusty, dry smell of books, shelf upon shelf of them, reaching to the high ceiling, was like a homecoming after a long sojourn in the wilderness.

* * *

Since the Knight General had not been specific on the matter of _when_ Pent was to travel to the capitol for his formal promotion, he added 'travel preparations' to the scribbled list he left for Miss Ada on the little table by the door and promptly forgot about it. He owned a warp staff for the worst case, and knew he could make Aquleia in seven jumps, even retain the ability to walk afterward if he timed them carefully, though he'd be unable to eat for a day or so. Louise would be against such a reckless trip; Douglas would likely scold him - then force him to stand tall for the ceremony and remind Pent why he was miserable at every opportunity.

Outside, past the curtain of ivy dangling over the library windows, the sky grew dusky, then dark. He lit the lamps around his desk with four flicks of his finger and a little magic. Someone left a plate of thin grain crackers and mild white cheese atop a stack of books he'd already finished. What he read now was penned in tight, bold lettering that strained his eyes after a few hours and forced him to move onto the leather folio sent from the capitol. Cold tea kept him awake, and then cold light fingering in past the ivy to make the lamp light seem stale and dim.

Some time after the angle of the light moved from dawn to mid-morning, a knock Pent didn't recognize sounded on the heavy door, and it swung open to admit his new wife. He looked up at her greeting and sighed when he saw she was already dressed. Her lips thinned.

Hm. That didn't look good-

"I'm sorry to interrupt your study, Lord Pent," Louise said. She crossed the rug to his table with hands clasped behind her back like a girl. "I spoke to Miss Ada about upkeep, and there is some misunderstanding regarding your most recent instructions."

"The staves." He shifted the folio, the books, looking for another piece of paper. "I forgot-"

"Yes..."

Pent ripped the corner from a page in his journal and fished for a bit of graphite. Her sigh made his bookmarks flutter. Mend, to replace the old one; restore, because thieves on the southerly road were fond of coating their knives with low-grade poison, and he wouldn't want to muck around for an antidote. "Will you be staying here when I go to Aquleia?"

"This time." Louise took the note, looked down at his list. She pulled her lip in slightly, and then: "Have you eaten, Lord Pent?"

He blinked, watching the glint of her violet eyes move slightly when she tilted her head, tucked a stray lock behind her ear. That morning she'd chosen a sweet magenta dress, the skirt short and fluttering around her thighs over slim pants, appropriate for shooting or riding, running, everything a lady shouldn't do. Likewise, it was folly to invite her to the capitol while he worked when she should be home handling the administration of his property, but- he thought he would like the idea of going to Aquleia better if Louise were part of the bargain.

"Lord Pent?"

He looked up again. She crossed an arm over her waist, the paper between her fingers. "Yes, I had something." The plate was gone, of course, when he searched for it. "Don't worry. Ada always makes sure I'm fed and watered. How is your day - have you arranged everything to your liking? Has the help been cooperative?"

Louise smiled, thin-lipped, not because she was irritated, but - it seemed - because she didn't want to let him know she was amused. She'd met with the staff, she had the account books. Ada was very helpful and motherly - _of course she is, else I wouldn't employ her_! - and speaking of her brought dimples to his wife's cheeks. Pent watched them appear and disappear, missing the next thing she said.

Once she left and he leaned back to prop the essay on his lap, page sixty five on the matter of the elder runes looked dull and cramped. He hated this particular author, anyway; the man went on tangents while developing formulae, for god's sake - and Ada wondered why he sat so long with these manuscripts.

The sun passed over the manor and left the afternoon light to diffuse and turn soft again, so Pent had to turn his chair in order to catch the light to best effect on the page. Supper was placed at his elbow when he was in the middle of deciphering a set of pictographs, and it wasn't until a strain of sweet, fresh florals tickled his nose, completely unsuited to a dinner plate, that he raised his head and realized it was Louise who brought it, not Ada- that she was still there, her hip propped against the edge of the table. Her body faced him, but her eyes were turned to the window and the bright streaks of orange and purple clouds he saw reflected in the glass chambers of his lamps.

Dusk tinted her skin pink in all the right places. She was like a painting - a sculpture. "You've studied almost two days now," Louise said when she realized he was paying attention. "Ada described your research habits, but I must insist, Lord Pent..."

"I will eat, Louise." He straightened his posture - as if she were another of his tutors, a nanny, scolding him. "Is there something you need?"

She smiled. "I will stay until you've finished so I can move the plate out of your way. I would not want to soil a book unnecessarily."

So, it was going to be that way? Pent slid his dictionary onto the folio and stood, so they could speak eye to eye. "That really isn't necessary." He took her hand. "I'm not-"

"Ignoring the needs of your body?"

Her lofted eyebrow dared him to challenge her. It was more that he didn't notice; now that Pent could smell venison on his plate, new potatoes, fresh greens, of course he would apply himself to eating. But- "You misunderstand." Or perhaps he did. Louise had sworn to take care of him, and it seemed she meant to hold herself to that oath. "I've no intention of denying my needs." He pulled her by the wrist, slid his arm around her waist when she stepped forward obediently, held her tightly to his body. "As a matter of fact, there are a few things I would like to see to before enjoying this meal."

Red flooded her cheeks and spread down to her throat, and her pulse pattered like a nervous bird when he leaned to kiss it. "T-that isn't what I- you- _here_?" Her voice notched up a pitch. "The _books_-"

She was soft in all the right places, her hips widening at just the right angle for his hands to take hold and keep her still. "It wouldn't be the first time they've witnessed something like this," he said against her throat.

"_Pent_!"

Louise would hit him later for laughing, but he couldn't help it.

* * *

Though she forgave Pent for his oversight - her words - Louise to appear every night with a platter of food, which she watched him eat, nibbling on a slice of bread or a wedge of apple, until he consumed enough to satisfy her. Sometimes she smelled like roses and cream, at others violet, or lily, even gardenia. Once, she delivered his supper smelling like a Yule confection - like cinnamon, cocoa, as if someone had taken a cup of spiced drinking chocolate and rubbed it all over her skin. To this day he couldn't be certain it wasn't done on purpose; he remembered carrying her upstairs while she kicked and swatted at him, yelling to the servants that they not be disturbed on pain of termination, and then-

Pent squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with thumb and forefinger, breathing out slowly. Why was he married? Why did he do it? Shapes that were supposed to be words blotted the pages of the book he held open on his lap. Supposedly they completed an old, unfinished dissertation on elder magic by an anonymous author, something he'd been eager to read, as books on the topic were rare. Yet, three pages in, he couldn't have said whether it was true or not. _No, Archsage, I do not believe my upcoming nuptials will affect my study_-

Bah.

He marked his place with a strip of leather and got up. The shelves stretched up almost two stories and three heavy pine ladders allowed access to the very top. Since inheriting the manor Pent had arranged the books to suit him - magic and natural science on the lower, more accessible shelves, while history, literature, and language texts packed the top. Ivy crawled across the window panes where the shelves were split asunder to illuminate the room. Their spidery shadows crawled across the floor, the domed shape of the windows casting light far enough to reach the opposite wall. Louise sometimes stood between the bookcases and looked outside while she waited for him to eat, her golden hair a pretty contrast to the dark wooden furniture.

She was altogether too lovely for this big, dark place. One could shoot arrows anywhere, at anything - a tree, a fence post - but nothing would make it more lively. Children might do the trick, but that took time.

But it wasn't just that. Louise- she was no ordinary girl. She brightened every room she entered. Gold, silver, and porcelain all paled in her presence. She didn't belong among such a mundane lot - she was unearthly. She deserved an equally beautiful and interesting world in which to live.

Sunset looked to be a while off yet, so Pent went to find her. A lone window lit the corridor from the east end and the ceiling was low, paneled in dark wood like the walls, two, maybe three hand-spans above his head, so his footsteps left a close echo, sharp and loud on the polished floor, over runners worn gray and brown by dust and dirt. He walked toward the kitchen, thinking Louise might take care of inventories and supplies there because Ada spent most of her time in that area of the house, but she said his wife had finished that and gone outside in the most scandalous getup she'd ever seen, the skirt up to _there_, no sleeves, nothing left to the imagination.

That meant the east lawn - or what was a lawn, until Pent came of age and proved himself destructive enough with magic that his father had the grass ripped out to allow space for practice. Both metal and wooden targets were stored there in a shed, and straw, and a suit of rusted armor. Louise had pulled a straw man out for her drills, and while he watched, standing at the edge of the yard with arms folded behind his back, she pinned it with arrows to the heart, liver, ribs, and both shoulders, _thunk-thunk-thunk_ing in quick succession. Sunlight gleamed along the silver shafts. His shadow stretched and nearly touched it.

She went to collect her arrows and noticed him on her way back to the line she'd drawn into the soil. "Lord Pent," she called, approaching him with the bow slung over her shoulder - not her silver bow, but a plain wooden one that looked heavy; good enough for practice. "I'm sorry. I didn't notice you were there. Am I needed for anything?"

"Just your company," Pent said, holding his hand out. "Someone else can clean this place up."

Louise took his hand without hesitation, but looked back when he pulled her from the dirt, onto the grass. "Are you sure? The house is so short-staffed..."

"That will change now that you've moved in." She followed after a gentle tug; Pent pulled her arm around his, held it close. Arrows clacked around in her quiver. Since that was an easy topic to discuss, he told Louise of his plans to revive the gardens north of the manor, which had lain dormant since his childhood, and fill out the general staff so the kitchen girls could focus their attentions on their training, and even promised her a clerk - female, of course - for harvest season, when the orchards buried them in apples and pears. He knew she liked apples, and preferred cider to wine, plain country cobbler to fudge, and described every dessert, stew, and roast he could remember sitting down to during autumn. He led her to their chambers, asking her what she'd learned since acquainting herself with the servants, what she wanted, what she expected - he remembered she wanted to stay home when he went to the capitol, perhaps to take care of these things, but did that mean she was wary of moving? Any good country family made a pilgrimage to the capitol for the winter to keep up with society, and powerful landlords like her father had to visit their holdings; they usually took their families along, so Louise would have traveled.

So- he said it. "I would like to introduce you to my mentor, Louise, when you have time."

Louise blinked slowly. Her hands curled in her lap, tinted orange by the sky. "If that is your wish, Lord Pent. Is he very far?"

Pent scratched his ear, looked outside. 'Far' would be an understatement. "Somewhat." He wanted to leave it at that, but she tilted her head, and one eyebrow lifted slightly, unconsciously, prompting him to add more. "I told you of my trip to the Nabata desert - do you remember?"

"Y-" Her hands flew to her braid, twisting it. "Yes. I... don't suppose you mean to mislead me with that question?"

He smiled, leaning on the arm of his chair to watch her. "I'm afraid not."

Sunset spread across the sky outside like fire, cooling in a long, purple line along a horizon of trees that matched the cool floral of his wife's perfume. Her eyes reflected the flaming sky, orange flecks upon violet, shifting slightly while she thought. Pent watched her fingers trace the weave of her braid. Her lips shimmered with cranberry butter he would taste if he kissed her. Who said perfection came painted and chanting poetry? Her hair gleamed brightly as the golden band around her finger; his eyes traced her legs up from her ankles to her knees to the widening curve of her thighs, her skirt bunched up around her legs the way she sat, with her feet propped on the carved base of the table- hiding nothing, just as Ada said.

Granted the Archsage had given up all human attachments save one - that of teacher and student - but once he saw Louise, he would understand. No man would begrudge Pent the presence of his lovely partner who, in any case, would be extremely useful should they run into bandits on the way to Arcadia. Why, one taste of her roasted potatoes - the ones with rosemary and thyme and big flakes of salt - and all would be settled.

"Well," Louise said, taking a deep breath, "I always did want to see the great whirlwind. Lead the way."

* * *

Their journey south took the better part of a month, and might have taken longer if they were not still newly married and alone; courtesy would have required Pent stop with his escort at each of the provincial capitols to greet his peers and allow them to delay his journey a day, or two, or perhaps a week. Passing the Etrurian capitol by would have been inexcusable. Louise expressed her concern over their rudeness twice, watching the distant white towers with her reigns held loosely in one hand to allow her mare what license she wanted on the straight roadway. There, at the center of Etruria's power, the highway was paved with white stone and lit at intervals of a hundred paces when night fell, secured by guard houses and the local military patrol. In Reglay the stones had been buried by mud long ago, and the road was hard-packed dirt; down south, where Nabata waited, it disappeared into the wild grasses, which ran themselves ragged into the sand.

Louise and her bow fed them for most of the trip, though Pent was perfectly willing to climb trees for almost-ripe peaches or plums, and he came back with a cape-full of berries and his hands scratched pink and red one evening, which made his wife smile- but roll her eyes, and scold him, while she washed the berries in river water and stewed them with the rabbit. Her hair looked lovely in the firelight - prettier, more delicate than gold. No artisan on Elibe could spin golden thread as fine as her hair. He fell asleep stroking the length of her moonlit braid while she folded her arms to her chest and curled close to him beneath their blankets and cloaks.

Three years earlier, just before they met for the first time, Pent thought he would end with a marriage to reflect that of the knight general - lukewarm if he was lucky, but most likely cold, for he couldn't think of a woman at court who would consent to being ignored. Even Louise had her own way of drawing his attention and she was relentless, if always pleasant.

He would eat anything she made; roast venison, bread and water- poison. Anything, if it came from her hand.

Once they left the capitol behind, the winds grew warmer, scented with baking grass and pine, and the countryside yellower, less populated. Dust puffed along the roadside more often, stirred by bursts of air. He speculated aloud about it while they rode - the inconsistency of the wind must be a result of the enchanted vortex around the desert, which he'd studied and still couldn't quite figure out. _You say the Archsage created it_? Louise said, and then, after a pause: _no wonder you can't reproduce it_. She ignored his protest that she show more faith in him, musing on how the winds would affect her arrows.

Good question.

They found out two days later, when she shot a stolen purse out of a brigand's hands and threatened to do the same to his head next if he came one step closer. Pent didn't even have to pull out a tome. The owner of the purse, a rotund woman wearing a bland yellow dress and a smudged apron, offered them shelter for the night and a crude map outlining the safest course through to the desert. It was the last town before the sands started to eat away at the soil so only grass and weeds would grow, yellow, dry and burned under the sun. They were warned about wild fires, but saw nothing but dust and dead fields the farther they rode.

"I thought you knew this place," Louise said once they left, the route memorized. She nudged her mare closer to him and leaned over.

Pent spread the map on his thigh so she could see. "Normally I take a different route." The roads of magic, for instance - on which she couldn't accompany him at his present level. "The Archsage sees to my progress once I enter the desert. It's his domain - signed and sealed, if you will."

Louise lifted her gaze to the dull sand horizon and the hazy sky before them, which was blurred gray and brown even from a distance. "We have three days of water, four of food."

"It'll be enough," he said.

The wind lost its peaceful voice the next morning when they were halfway across the plain and started to bite, bits of dirt, rock, dead grass and shrubbery scraping his face and hands. Sand crunched between their teeth when they ate and made water bitter. Louise veiled her face with a scarf, all but her eyes covered, and-

"I apologize, Lord Pent," she said when the sand scrunched beneath their feet and hung in the air swirling, like eddies of fog or morning mist, whining and howling so she had to shout. The sky was gray and sandy, and the ground constantly shifting beneath their feet, soft as snow until it scattered on the wind and came around to pelt one's face. They led their mounts by the reigns, there being no use in riding and weighing the beasts down. "My presence requires riding, and our progress..."

He waited for her to finish - she might turn the apology into something sensible, though Pent couldn't imagine how. Sand ground between his teeth. His hair whipped around, the ends of his ponytail snapping into his face. "I'm the one who invited you," he said when it became clear she didn't know how to finish. "Leave the matter of our transportation to my teacher. He'll notice us - eventually."

Her eyebrows drew together beneath her scarf, but he couldn't tell if she smiled or frowned. Pent reached for her hand and pulled her along. They couldn't move freely while tethered to the horses, but he wanted to feel her there - warm fingers beneath their silk wrapping, long and slender, callused at the tips and along the sides from the handling of arrows. She rubbed them with lotion every day until the scent of violets followed her like the light reflected from her golden hair; even on this journey she'd not given up until one morning when she'd opened her pot of scented butter and saw the top speckled with sand. _That's two applications lost_, she'd said with a sharp sigh - what a waste, she should have been more careful. _Waste not, want not_ - Pent knew the saying, but had never lived it. If she wanted a replacement, she would have it. If she wanted chocolate-scented cocoa butter imported from the tropics the expense wouldn't make a dent in his assets, yet she rolled her eyes when he suggested it.

Would she do that at home- roll her eyes, get exasperated with him? Lecture him on how one didn't waste money - as if her family was any better about their finances - until the flush of pink in her cheeks made him say something stupid to embarrass her? That wouldn't be half bad. Ada should love her to death. _He_ is _a hard man to live with, missus - why, you should hear him yelling come harvest when he can't shove the paperwork onto the help_-

Oh yes, she'd love it.

And he would be glad to leave the ledgers to Louise.

Darkness fell before Pent sensed the invisible eye of his master's spell sweeping the dunes ahead of the wind. He grabbed Louise by the waist, held her to his chest and let the horses bump up against them. Warp spells left him dizzy, but Louise stumbled when it dropped them, and his horse jerked at the reigns, shaking its head and showering them with sand. Pent held her steady and blinked dust from his eyes.

A crumbling wall and the remains of its gate loomed before them, several men tall and worn down at the edges. Date palms swayed on their thin trunks, black against a sky scribbled with orange and magenta, streaks of dark violet, and yellow gold past the far wall and behind the temple. Pent looked down and saw Louise had pulled her scarf down. Tendrils of her hair had escaped it and curled around her chin. "Arcadia," he said, pointing to the green shadows of trees and faint, yellow glitters of water. Between the leaning lines of the southern date grove was a shadow shape she wouldn't have seen outside of tapestries and paintings. "Dragons have lived here with people like us for centuries. You'll want to meet the young ones, especially."

"I-" Louise covered her mouth, fingers curling, and leaned closer to him. "I'm sorry, Lord Pent, I thought you were making it up."

He felt a grin split his face. "I do like to tell stories," he said, letting the reigns drop. The horses would follow of their own accord - they'd want water and food. Pent brushed sand from her hair and led her forward, an arm draped over her hips, inhaled deeply the scent of roses and oleander and let it out in a rush. "But this one is more amazing than fiction, isn't it my dear?" She nodded slowly, silently, perhaps overcome, and they passed between the gates. "Welcome to the land of legends."

...


End file.
